


Moonlight Sonata in a Basement

by cancerthecrabbo



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brotherly Love, Episode Tag: s02ep04 X-Ray + Penny, Family Feels, Friendship, Gen, Murdoc is a creep, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Team as Family, Torture, Whump, Whumptober 2018, Whumptober Day 4, Whumptober: "No stop!", X-Ray + Penny, papa!jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 13:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16219928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cancerthecrabbo/pseuds/cancerthecrabbo
Summary: All Mac has to do is say, “Stop.”  It’ll all be over if he just says that one little word.  And he would, he really would, if it were anyone other than Murdoc asking it of him.(Day 4 of Whumptober: "No, stop!")





	Moonlight Sonata in a Basement

**Author's Note:**

> For the piano song playing, I imagined Moonlight Sonata 3rd Movement :) as you can tell by the title
> 
> ps  
> I want sushi and it's 3:08 AM  
> i am so t i r e d (so this might suck)

Stop – a simple word with simple meanings; to end an action or a location for a vehicle to arrive.  ‘Bus stop’, a common little place that can be found all across the world.  _This is my stop_ ; an expression, maybe even a cliché in rom-coms.  _Please stop, please, please, please, stop, it hurts_.  

 

All he has to do is say that one little word and be spared a world of pain.  Mac knows Murdoc is a goddamn sociopath but that he might just be serious when he lays out the rules.  After all, sociopaths get bored so easily.

 

“Listen to me, Angus.  The magic word is ‘stop’.  If you feel like it, ‘no, stop’ or ‘please, stop’ will work as well.  But until you beg, I’ll test out all of these fun little tools.”  Murdoc stands next to a cart holding a toolbox.  Light bounces off of sharp angles just waiting to sink into Mac’s vulnerable body.  He can’t do anything with the sedatives dripping into his bloodstream, his heart pounding quickly, sending the numbness to his fingers faster with each beat.  When Murdoc had left to get his box of play-things, as he described them, Mac had drifted off before he could rip the needle out of his arm.  The indents from his limp wrist pressing against the handcuffs are itchy and hot.

 

But Murdoc is asking for more than just a word.   He’s being asked to admit defeat, to submit to Murdoc completely.  To accept his rule is to accept that he has no control in this situation.  Mac would be giving more than just a monosyllabic word; it would mean a break in his spirit, an admission of the power Murdoc wants to have over him. 

 

“Fuck off,” Mac says instead.  He doesn’t usually curse but it feels like the situation warrants the strong language.  It has an odd effect on Murdoc – he looks delighted.

 

“Oh, goodie!  It’s no fun when your toys break too quickly.  I’ll have fun wearing you down.”  Murdoc circles the chair Mac sits in, predatory, eager, and far too close for comfort.  Chills run up and down Mac’s spine at the knowledge that he’s helpless against the whim of this man.  The total lack of empathy in Murdoc’s eyes has his instincts screaming at him.  “Y’know,” Murdoc says, “I agree with the idea that human beings are apex predators, but I truly believe we’re lacking that extra _oomph_.  A true apex predator of nature can smell fear.  It’s always been something I’ve resented about humans, Mac, but to be perfectly candid...”  Murdoc leans in close, hands slipping onto Mac’s shoulders.  His lips are mere centimeters from Mac’s ear.  “I can see the terror in your body language.  In your eyes.  The way you desperately want to get away from me.  It’s all so perfect.”

 

Mac forces down a full-body shudder.  He just has to last long enough for Jack to find him.  That’s all – Jack is going to find him and get him the hell away from Murdoc and everything will be okay.  _Everything will be okay_ turns into a mantra in Mac’s mind as Murdoc reaches a hand into the toolbox.

 

Humming as he bends down to inspect the tools he’s laid out, Murdoc paints a picture of a man deciding between breakfast cereals, not torture instruments.  _Everything will be okay.  Compartmentalize._   Mac has obviously been trained for this sort of situation.  It’s a requirement of all agents that are in the field to be prepared for 'rigorous interrogations'.  He simply needs to retreat into his mind and try to dissociate the pain from himself.  Murdoc’s arm stills and the clinking of metal stops, signaling that he’s made up his mind.

 

Murdoc pulls his tool from one of the boxes.  “Oddly simple, I know, but I’d like to build up to the special treats I have in store.”  He approaches Mac again, twirling the knife in his left hand deftly.  It’s serrated but thankfully lacking any rust.  Mac would be a little less queasy if the blade was smooth; he knows the sharp teeth-like tips of the knife are going to catch on his flesh.  It’s apparent that Murdoc knows this.  The excitement in his eyes is blinding.

 

Just as Murdoc seemed to decide where exactly to put the knife – the middle of Mac’s sternum – he slaps a hand to his forehead.  “Music!”  Mac is left to unclench his eyes and suck in a deep breath as Murdoc strides from the room and returns with a speaker.  He pulls a phone from his pocket and scrolls through a selection.  _What type of music does a sociopath listen to?  What is the appeal of music to someone who can’t feel empathy, who disregards sentimentality?_  

 

Mac takes comfort in the ease of his own curiosity.  If he can separate himself from the moment successfully, Mac can fall back on the many questions he asks himself.  He usually doesn’t have time to think through possible strategies or connections he might have to make in the in the field.  Improvisation happens in the moment, but he can still have formulas ready at the forefront of his mind and contextualization of concepts worked out to make things go smoother.

 

As Mac retreats into his own mind, Murdoc chooses the song.  Piano music begins to play from the speaker.  Murdoc takes a moment to turn the volume up to a respectable level but still quiet enough for Mac’s grunt of pain to be heard over the notes. 

 

The tip of the knife digs in farther into the middle of Mac’s sternum.  Pain flares and makes its way down his chest as Murdoc’s knife slices through fabric and flesh, blood welling and staining the blade.  Mac tries to focus on the impressive piece of music coming from the speakers instead of the feeling of his skin and muscle catch and tear.  Murdoc lifts the knife, tilting his head from side to side, grinning when Mac stares him down with fury in his eyes. 

 

“A very nice place to scar, I think,” he murmurs.  Disgust wells up in Mac when he hears the genuine interest in Murdoc’s voice.  “That’s why the blade is serrated.  I’m sure you know this won’t be the last time I’ll have you all for myself.  Until then, I want to leave you with some souvenirs to look at when you wake up in the night and hope it was all a dream.”

 

Next, Murdoc circles around and drags the knife across Mac’s shoulders.  The first cut is apparently too shallow for his taste and he goes over the initial wound again, this time pulling a choked scream from Mac.  The music, which had begun with a frenzied energy, smoothed out as Murdoc himself falls into a rhythm.  He steps with precise moves around the chair Mac is bound to, leaving cuts of various lengths and depth across Mac’s body. 

 

The pain makes it hard to keep track of time.  He can count the number of cuts on his body now, 15 scattered from head to toe, but the spaces between the flares of agony are hazy from whatever is poisoning his blood.  Mac shakes and sweats alone in his chair as Murdoc dances in and out of his existence.

 

…

 

His head is hanging limply when Murdoc grabs his chin, tilts his head back, and slaps him with a bloody gloved hand.  Murdoc’s fingers slip through the back of Mac’s hair and close around the sweaty locks.  Murdoc pulls hard, drawing a sharp, breathless groan from Mac.  The forced eye contact makes him feel itchy like he’s covered in bugs, or like he’s staring down a starved snake.

 

“Almost done with the introduction, Angus, but I’d like you awake for this.”  The blade touches down on Mac’s chest over his heart.  Murdoc adjusts his grip so that his thumb pushes down on the hilt.  Mac doesn’t have the restraint to keep from screaming.  His throat feels raw as Murdoc finishes one slice and immediately starts another, this time perpendicular to the first one.

 

All he has to do is say ‘stop’. 

 

"Cross your heart and hope to die," he says, "What a nice expression.  I cross your heart, Angus, that as soon as you give up, I'll stop."

 

Murdoc reverently places the knife back in the toolbox he took it from.  The song had ended a while ago, though Mac’s hearing had faded out half-way through it, and he’s more interested in preparing himself for the next tool Murdoc pulls out. 

 

Mac’s head lolls.  He’s unable to hold onto any thought for very long except for one phrase.  “Jack’s coming…Jack’s coming…” 

 

Murdoc’s glove is wet as it taps Mac’s cheek.  “I’ll be back.”

 

…

 

Mac wakes up.  He’s alone.  Pain arches across his body where his skin has been disturbed, where he’s been cut open like a piece of meat.  But one thing that Murdoc didn’t count on is the fact that the pain clears Mac’s head, at least enough to lean down and tear the needle out of the crook of his arm.  He has to move as fast as physically possible – panic makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. 

 

The needle barely makes it into the handcuffs.  He jiggles it around accordingly until something clicks and, as swiftly as possible, makes it to his feet.  The sudden dizziness brought on by the difference in position combined with the flare of pain all over his body nearly makes Mac fall over right then and there.  Instead, he grips the IV stand and a surge of inspiration strikes him.  With shaking hands, Mac unscrews the hollow tube from the wheels and connects it to (what he hopes is) the right hose. 

 

The lock is obliterated.  The sound is all at once jarring and liberating.  Mac staggers up the stairs, tripping over his own feet, and into the blinding light.  Once out of the basement…he has no idea what to do.  A frightening thought pops into his mind: if Mac is out in the open, Murdoc can spot him much too easily.  The first thing that comes to mind to avoid being seen by that beast of a man are the sewers. 

 

With the world blurring at the edges and blood trickling down Mac’s body, he decides it's the best route to go.

 

…

 

Pushing the manhole up takes the last of Mac’s strength.  He’s barely aware of the cars speeding past him.  All he knows now are the stripes of agony that are pulled at with each step and the need to see Jack, Riley, Boze, and Matty.  He’d even take Samantha at this point.  Not that he hates her, Mac ponders as he steps haphazardly through the traffic, it’s just that he’s known Jack for years and won’t even need to use words to describe how absolutely shitty his day has been. 

 

His foot encounters the sidewalk violently.  Mac topples over onto the sidewalk, trembling apart and ready to break down, and calls for help. 

 

…

 

Jack wishes this were the first time he's sat beside Mac's bed.  He wishes that the doctor could do more to prevent the horrible scarring that's being left behind by the serrated knife Murdoc apparently used.  But he can't go back in time (as he's been told many times by his younger counterpart) and undo the terrible things that have happened to Mac.  All he can do is be here when he awakens and remind him that life isn't all Murdoc.

 

Riley and Bozer haven't truly been present during a post-mission vigil.  Mac hasn't been hurt this badly since perhaps Cairo; what makes this worse than Cairo are the psychological effects it'll have on the kid.  It makes Jack want to storm out of the hospital and strangle Murdoc with his bare hands just thinking of what it was like for Mac.  Murdoc is a certified sadistic sociopath - he lives to pursue entertainment, and for that man, causing pain is the best kind of entertainment.  

 

He desperately needs to see Mac open his eyes.  It's been hours since he, Samantha, and Bozer found him passed out on the sidewalk.  His heart had nearly leaped out of his chest when he saw the crowd of people around his partner.  

 

It seems that the universe has granted mercy upon Jack and his little family because Mac's eyelids finally twitch open.

 

"There are those big blue eyes I love, partner," Jack's voice is a low rumble.  His hand curls around Mac's smaller one, just to be sure he's aware the IV in his arm is dripping only fluids into his system, not a strain of nightshade.  To be honest, Jack also needs to feel the warmth of Mac's hand, he needs to have physical proof that he's alive.  Even after Murdoc had Mac in his goddamn basement because Jack was too petty to just talk to him.

 

"Jack," Mac murmurs.  His voice is hoarse - probably from all the screaming he did.  The thought nearly makes him nauseous and has his vision tinted red for a quick second.  His anger dissipates when Mac rubs his eyes like a sleepy little boy.   "Hi."

 

"Hey, kid.  How are you feelin'?"  The question feels pretty stupid once he's asked it, but it's the first thing that came to mind.

 

Mac says nothing.  Then, his breath hitches and Jack's heart breaks.  "Jack.  Where- where is he?  Did you catch him yet?"

 

He doesn't know what to say.  Jack doesn't want to have to be the person to tell Mac that Murdoc is still out there, waiting to catch Mac again and hurt him.  Instead, he says, "We're looking for him.  But I'm right here, Mac.  He'll have to go through me and all of Phoenix to get to you, I swear."

 

Mac's expression cycles through various emotions.  First, fear.  Fear so plain on his face that Jack clenches his free hand in rage.  Then comes a steely determination that overrides the fear, a transition that makes pride warm Jack's chest.  Mac nods to himself after processing the information.  He looks at Jack with trust swimming in his eyes.

 

Jack doesn't usually need such blatant shows of affection to show Mac how he feels but after this ordeal, he thinks it's justified.  He reaches up and cards his fingers through Mac's hair.  Pushing the bangs back, Jack lets his hand tremble for a second.  

 

And then he gathers himself.  Because Murdoc is out there, and they're going to catch him.

**Author's Note:**

> I might add another chapter following up on Mac's scars and possibly include a rewrite of the rest of the episode. Idk tho, Whumptober, Inktober, and school work are all kicking my ass!!!


End file.
